We officially moved out of my parent’s house this past weekend. The real estate market here is insane, and it took about three months of looking to find a place that would accept us.
So now I’m in recovery mode. Moving SUCKS with fibro. I hate feeling useless, so I overexert myself in order to “help”. I also made the mistake of missing a dose of Lyrica one night, so I was essentially out of it for most of Sunday.
What I did differently this time is take frequent breaks. I also didn’t put any major stipulations on when I wanted things done. Right now only the kitchen is completely unpacked. I don’t mind living in boxes for the next week or so as long as I can function and I don’t hurt myself.
The stress of four adults, one kid, two dogs and one cat living in one house has now dissipated. I am so much more relaxed and so is my husband and Sunshine.
I am forever grateful to my parents for letting us live with them during a very trying time. It was difficult with so many strong personalities living under one roof. But we survived.
Now to be unpacked by the end of the month. Yep, that’s a good goal…
true life is stranger than fiction.. 